Hand to Hold

May 12, 2010
Down on the ground,
With no-one around.
I cannot walk alone,
I haven't even got a stepping stone.
Though a crutch is close,
To get it is what I crave most.
I've got it and hold on tight,
With every bit of my might.

Writing is my hand to hold,
No-one else there to create my mold.
A place where I can fall back.
With not even a crack.
It keeps me sane,
Cause otherwise I'm untamed.

Here I am free,
It's my light so I can see.
You say I don't need it,
Though I need it to quit.
Life itself would be pointless,
Hours would be endless.
I'd constantly cry,
My face would never be dry.

You aren't me,
My life is not a cup of tea.
It's and endless fight,
Freedom is a far height.

Writing is my safe place,
Unlike your unwelcoming face.
You are insane to assume,
It's an unhealthy fume.
Nothings out of my reach,
You've got nothing to teach.

So stay away,
This is how I deal with everyday.
I am finally fine,
So let me have this time.
To be happy,
Lets not let this get sappy.
I don't need your hand,
I've got open lands.
To save myself,
So tell yourself.


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